कोरे कागज़ पर अधूरी पंक्तियाँ

जब दिन ख़ुशनुमा हो तो थोड़ा कम लिखा करता हूँ 
जब रातें अँधेरी हो तो कागज़ पर ग़म लिखा करता हूँ 

जब टूटा हुआ हो दिल तो कम कहा करता हूँ
वफ़ा का घर चुभने भी लगे तो वहीं रहा करता हूँ

जिस रास्ते में साथ न हो कोई वहाँ चला करता हूँ
जैसे धक्के दे दे दुनिया वैसे ढला करता हूँ

जो मुस्कुरा के हाल चाल पूछ लें उनसे मिला करता हूँ
जो न पूछें न मुस्कुराएँ उनके बारे में गिला करता हूँ

जब सारा सब्र थक जाए तभी रूठा करता हूँ
कभी कभी कुछ बदनसीब लोगों पे थोड़ा फूटा करता हूँ

जिनसे प्यार करता हूँ उनसे उनकी प्यार की कहानियाँ सुना करता हूँ
जब कहानियों में कुछ दु:साध्य मोड़ आए तो अपनी कहानियाँ बुना करता हूँ

जिसकी चाह एक बार ठान ली उसी की ज़िद करता हूँ
जो उसे पाने में साथ जुड़ जाएँ उन्हें ही मुर्शिद करता हूँ

मेज़ पे चाय के कप एक आएँ या दो
मेज़ भी वही और चाय भी वही रहती है
कोई भूला-बिसरा अगर ज़िंदगी पर मेरी राय पूछ ले तो
इन बातों पे मेरी राय भी वही रहती है

मगर क्या करें हम भी, ताली बजती है तो बस दो हाथों से
दिन सँवरते हैं और बिगड़ते हैं तो बस जज़्बातों से
हाथों से बस स्नेह मिले, काबू में वैसे हाथ तो नहीं
दिन का सूरज उनसे ही चढ़े, उनसे ही ढले, वश में वैसे जज़्बात तो नहीं

Thoughts that I can't stop

Oh, to write a story with my unsent lines,
Oh, to tell you softly, you’re the muse that shines.
Oh, to ask love questions, with no reply in view,
Oh, to have a heart made bright by the thoughts of you.

Oh, to see your smile when my world falls apart,
Or to wear that smile that heals your aching heart.
Oh, to dream of nights where only you reside,
Oh, to have your photos in my gallery, nowhere else to hide.

Oh, to live in rooms that smell of your perfume,
Oh, to watch the lilies that your hands made bloom.
Oh, to carry your bags on lazy shopping days,
Oh, to find your eyes across a crowded haze.

Oh, to feel that guilt when I've kept you online too long,
Oh, to send you every half-forgotten bookmarked song.
Oh, to share one shelf, your books and mine aligned,
Oh, to run through strands of your hair, so soft, so kind.

Oh, to tell you my stories and bore you to sleep,
Oh, to wipe away your tears when you weep.
Oh, to bring you chocolates when the cramps hit you hard,
Oh, to pretend to be sweet as you melt my façade.

Sometimes these thoughts whisper hope into my ears,

But can I live them through and through? We'll figure it out over the years.
I wish I could visit you and say this all out loud,
Let's hope against all hope, and keep all my feelings unbowed.

शबाब

कुछ प्यार यूं मेरे अंदर ही ढल जाएगा 

यह एक तरफ़ा पागलपन खुद ही संभल जाएगा 

जब उस खुदा का निर्णीत एक कल आएगा 

मेरे ईमान और दर्द का ज़रूर कोई तो फल आएगा 

सुना है तुम मेरी वफ़ा का फल बन कर आयी हो 

अपने साथ अरमानों का एक गुलदस्ता भी लेकर आयी हो 

माफ़ करना मुझे, मेरा रोने का कोई इरादा नहीं था 

पूरा हो पाए जो प्यार की ख़ातिर, मैंने देखा कोई वादा ही नहीं था 

यहाँ तो हर मोड़ पर , हर कोई प्यार का इंतज़ार कर रहा है 

जिससे दिल लगाए बैठा है, उसी के प्यार की कहानियाँ सुन रहा है 

मैंने भी वैसे किस्से कहाँ तुमको बताये हैं 

मुझे भी मालूम है की हम सब प्यार के थोड़े थोड़े सताये हैं 

अपनी चाय की प्याली में हम उम्मीद घोल कर पीते थे 

यूँ ही सताए सही, हम हल्का मुस्कुरा कर ही जीते थे 

पत्तों के बीच से छुपके आने वाली धुप की किरण के जैसी तुम आना, हम दिल से मुस्कुरायेंगे 

ख़ुशी से सींच सींच कर एक प्यारी फुलवारी हम भी बनाएंगे 

जो पथिक प्रेम का सताया हुआ उस बगीचे में आएगा 

प्रतिदत्त प्रेम की सौम्यता वह भी देख पायेगा 

किस्मत में जो लिखा हो उससे हम कहाँ लड़ सकते हैं 

मगर प्यार के ज़खम भी हम लोग ऐसे ही तो भर सकते हैं 

A great many feelings

I never thought I would be jealous of your earrings. They're travelling with you, close but not too close to make you uncomfortable, and when you tuck your hair behind your ear, they have the privilege of being brushed by your fingers. You would get this only if you could see yourself the way I see you, but how can I?

Oh, that makes me jealous of your glasses too; they get to show you the entire world. 

What's a greater privilege for me than to see you read what I wrote? These words shall be the luckiest part of me to be noticed by you, but I don't know if you'll recognize the part of you that lives in what I write.

Oh, they don't teach us so much back in school, am I nuts to lose my mind just with the brushing of elbows, or to keep trying to finding reasons to talk, or to pull you gently while walking because I don't want you to get dirty (thank you birds)? What do we talk about anyway? I might not be focused enough to recall what I was saying.

Do you ever see these walking eyes all around? They can see my smile, and I think they already know

Maybe that's why they don't stop us when we're walking together

But you know what's surprising in that too? I don't think I mind them interrupting our random conversations, I would finally get a few minutes to just stand and look at you without making you feel awkward. If I could draw, I would draw how your smile widens to show just the perfect amount of teeth (is that a weird thing to say?), how the curves on your cheek trap me, only to be recovered when I have been staring too long and the next thing meeting my eyes are yours, clueless. Is there no other way to tell you you're art, personified?

I wish I could take you to witness a sunset together, you can look at the sun in awe, and I could look at you. I don't really know what makes those eyes shine bright, but it would feel right to keep them that way with whatever I have. The foggiest of days here wouldn't be so foggy after all; in any case, all I really want to see is you. There's a small period between my phone ringing and me checking the screen, and so I hope every time that it reads your name. 

If I'm saying too much, would it ever be your fingers on my lips shutting me up? I'm okay with smiling from a distance, all I hope is that you smile back too.

I watched two masterpieces and cried uncontrollably

Well, the crying part is nothing new when I watch romantic movies, but the two recent movies I watched felt like those stories where one just can't not imagine themselves in the protagonist's shoes and cry on their behalf.

I had been exposed to South Korean cinema much before Parasite was a phenomenon, through films like Train to Busan and Snowpiercer. But then I saw a few YouTube videos regarding the recently released movie called 'Past lives'. It is a romantic drama, showing the journey of two childhood friends, where the girl emigrates from Seoul to Canada to then New York. Without giving much spoilers, I'll just describe the parts I think made the plot very relatable. The girl, Nora, falls in love with the guy, Hae Sung, on Skype, 12 years after she had left him due to her emigration. But here's the problem, Nora is ambitious. She thinks she's being held back in her New York Journey, chasing a Pulitzer, by this old stupid love of hers. Selfishly, she decides not to talk to him for some time, cuts him off her life, and starts focusing on her journey. The last phase of the movie is when she is married to an American writer, living an ordinary life in New York City, and Hae Sung comes to visit her, simply to get the closure that he wants. Over the two days, they had immense fun; he even met her husband, and admitted that he didn't know why so much love existed inside him for her. Eventually, of course, there has to be a goodbye. Here's where the movie is at its peak. Two childhood friends turned lovers, who weren't destined to be together, standing on a New York City pavement, waiting for an Uber. They hugged, and that was the only mutual moment of physical intimacy they had, probably in their entire lives. While Hae Sung was clear that he loved her, and was there just to let her go, Nora probably didn't even realise it until she hugged him. Hae Sung leaves, and Nora returns to her apartment crying. One small line that Hae Sung said struck me the most. Here's the line:

In the end, love does become an act of letting go, doesn't it?

That's what brings me to the second movie - On your wedding day, another South Korean romantic comedy. It was an extremely interesting and funny movie, showing how an adolescent school romance drives a boy to end up in the same university as his talented girlfriend, only to find she's dating someone else. Eventually, when they do get close again, he saves her from an accident but gets injured himself. What does he lose? His physical education finals, so he has to repeat a year. What does he gain? Her. 

Initially, he was happy. Those few scenes that showed their blossoming love were among the happiest scenes I have watched on a screen for a very long time, but the guy Hwang woo-yeon, doesn't pass his finals with the grade required to become a teacher, his dream. Soon, his job search turns into a struggle, and the girl, Hwan Seung-hee overhears him ranting to one of his friends that he might regret ever running into her again in college in case his life turns into a failure. There was no going back for them, Hwan Seung-hee was too hurt to stay, and she left to chase her dream in Belgium. Much later, she visits him at a school where he's teaching (yes, he succeeded), to inform him of her wedding. Hwang woo-yeon is obviously hurt, but asks her to send a wedding invite. When the invite comes, he is absolutely shattered, and decides not to attend it, until he finds this:

The end of the story is again about letting go. He visits her in her room, right before her marriage, and tells her how grateful he is about ever falling in love with her. He thanks her for giving him direction, and love. And she thanks him for giving her support. And that's it, that's the end of the story. Unhappy ending. It's not unrequited love, it's just requited love that was never meant to be.

Words can't ever do justice to the masterpieces these two movies were. I hope you find the time to watch them and feel the overwhelming flow of emotions that these protagonists would've felt. And I sincerely hope that love doesn't reduce to an act of letting go for you. Lovers deserve better.

To the one who can't express affection

To the boys who can't express affection well

You will find someone who knows

Your love is imperfect, not incomplete

We're mostly hidden lovers with love hidden inside of us

People can't hear the song we play on our way back home

How would they know it was the same song you were hearing that morning

When you first met her

They won't know why you wore that shirt to the interview

It was the same shirt you wore on the night of your first kiss

They won't see the smile on your face for hours

After you've cut the call with her and are supposed to sleep

Why is it so important to scream love and why should you not be allowed to just feel it in private?

They won't see those notes you write to her at the end of every day

And I know you're hoping to show them to her soon

You haven't written much, it's just everything that happened with you each day

And all you want is for her to know what it would be like to be your soul

With you, every millisecond, being the reason you feel any emotion at all

Oh, and I know you haven't washed that hoodie you lent her

And even in the heat, you're sleeping in it, hoping she was around

They won't see your bookmarks and see the millions of things you want to gift her

Neither will they see you praying to be capable enough of surprising her with those

They will call you a self-proclaimed snob and a workaholic

But they won't gift you the cup of chai you're sacrificing to buy a ticket to her place

They won't know why you bought the perfume she uses

And why you spray it on your window curtains at night, hoping it fills your room with her smell

They won't see the password-protected folder where you've kept 5439 pictures of her

The place you go to when she's out enjoying with her other friends

They'll call you 'emotionally unavailable' without knowing how you're longing for her to share her emotions with you 

They won't know why the cricket team you were cheering for has changed

They won't know the reason behind the Google ads of earrings and necklaces

They won't know why you wake up and walk at 2 AM in the night

Listening to every single voice note she's sent

How will they know all of it?

You're not one to scream or shout what you feel

You don't want anyone else to know your channels of showing love

But when things will go wrong, as they always go wrong, and you'll be lonely

And they're gossiping behind your back, while you hide your tears and swollen eyes in your sunglasses

You'll be called 'the one who can't express affection'

Or worse, 'The one who never loves'

 

Last train home

Station. Platform number 1. Crowded.

I’m waiting for you as the earth waits for the clouds to rain

You, perhaps, can’t notice my thirst or urge to fill myself up with your love

Announcements are being made, and I see crowds vanish into their travels

With every passing minute, with every train leaving the platform, my anxiety increases

Are you even going to come? Was I even supposed to be waiting here?

The sun has set.

Does that also mean it’s dusk for what we had?

Did I keep looking at the sun change sides and not realize it was no longer going to light up my life?

Every girl with your hairstyle, everyone with a voice like yours

Has to suffer my empty stare, hoping that they were you

I am reminded of the day you said what I wanted to hear

Should I not have listened?

Did you just mean to confess but not stay?

Why did you become my home then, pray?

Were we dancing down the aisle of our love’s funeral?

Do not, you must dare not blame me for taking the last train back home.

Even the moon was looking at me with pity, and so were some faces in the crowd

Who had seen me wait hopelessly

Who could see, that had there been trains later that night, I would have waited further

But just because you didn’t turn up, I can’t stay on the platform forever

My forever could have been with you, but you’re choosing otherwise.

I will return home the next evening

And the walls of my heart will carry the shadows of our memories

Unlike us, our memories will stay forever, and die with me

Don’t tell me you were running on the other side of the station hoping to find me in time

It’s not my fault, maybe not yours either

But I know that is how it is supposed to be

My home will never be the same, and neither will my heart

So maybe I’ll find a cage instead, or maybe an open sky

The next time I want to love someone, I won’t even try.

The next time I feel something for you, I will hate myself, my dear.

Goodbye. So much for feeling homesick in the four walls I used to call home.

Station. Platform. Empty.

Heart, filled with the footsteps of those who had been there.

A soft whisper would work

Soft music in the background

Our sweet words in the gentle voices

The moon gracing the sky

The stars in awe of their own alignment

Your hand in my hand would not be

Too much to ask for, will it?

I look at the way you bite your lip before you laugh

Or that little sigh before you say something on a new topic

Or the way you place your index finger on my knee while making a point

And then shyly pull it back, looking at the ground 

Giving me the smile I thought only I possessed

Why do I notice all of this?

And why do I keep falling for you when I see you?

Every time you look into my eyes

Why do you tuck your hair behind your ear 

Or push your spectacles up on your nose

As if to create a distraction for me

So that I don’t drown in your eyes

The blush on your cheeks when I place my hand on your thigh

Or your loss of words when I express my affection

How do I choose what to listen to?

Your silence, or what words others choose for us?

And what word would you choose for me anyway?

What if words restrict me and I restrict my words

How else should I let you know that I love the gap between your sentences

Or that I don’t mind you dragging me in the middle of the night to take a walk

Or that I love it when you lick your lips for the last drop of that fruit juice

Which you drank from that packet till the straw had no life left

How do I just appreciate the moment and not appreciate you?

What makes you think it would be even close to complete without you

I could enjoy the company of the moon, the breeze and the crickets chirping away

But you need to know that on this night, you’re not the cloud, but the silver lining

When you’re not with me

The fight is between me and words to express myself but also to hold something back

I don’t want to be too open or too mysterious

When I’m with you, the fight is between me and time

How do I not let my heart sink when you pull back your hand as you’re about to leave?

How do I wait for the next night?

To see you, notice all of those things about you, and feel intoxicated by the smell of your perfume

If I could carry a piece of you with me all the time, I would.

But till then I can wait and hope

That within me, there would soon be a piece of you

To give me peace and kiss me good night when I’m alone

And when you will be mine, you can reunite

And so will I, with the piece of me I hope to leave behind every night

when those tears fill my eyes as you sing me goodbye